Thinking of You
by AnnieXMuller
Summary: 'Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you, thinking of you, what you would do, if you were the one who was spending the night? Oh, I wish that I was looking into your eyes. Season 3 fillers and post-eps. Caskett. COMPLETE. Reviews not necessary, just needed to finish this one.


**All 6 chapters of Thinking of You, with the new - and final - chapter 7 at the end. It's also available at my LJ: teal-talitha , where all my completed Castle fanfic lives these days (or will do, once I've finally uploaded all 50 of them!)  
**

* * *

******Brooke threw a prompt out: "Season 3 Caskett (post kiss) inspired by Thinking of You by Katy Perry. If it ends with Dr Unhinge His Jaw getting dumped and smutty goodness, that's cool too."**

**Canon to start with, and then hello glorious AU land.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**_Knockdown_**** filler**

* * *

_Comparisons are easily done,_  
_Once you've had a taste of perfection_.  
_Like an apple hanging from a tree_,  
_I picked the ripest one, I still got the seed_.  
_You said move on, where do I go?_  
_I guess second best is all I will know_.

* * *

Kate freezes, surprised by Castle's hand knocking hers from her gun, startled by his fingers tangling into her hair, stunned as his lips meet hers. She was supposed to be yelling at the guard to put his hands up, turn around, stay put, not finding herself immobilized, trapped in a kiss-induced stupor. She doesn't fight it; she relaxes, goes along with it, because she's playing a part, that of a drunken date, but it ends too soon. She catches sight of the guard over Castle's shoulder, desperation gripping her when he eyes them suspiciously, unconvinced by the scene unfolding before him.

It's not Castle's shoulder, she lies to herself, it's Josh's. It's Josh's face inches from her own, Josh's body hers is pressed so firmly to, Josh's hands that are holding her. She can do this. She swoops in, pressing her lips to his, sucking and nipping; she slides her mouth open, slips her tongue past his, tells herself the entire time he's Josh. Tells herself this is right.

She's not cheating. It's a ruse to get past the guard. She's undercover. And what does it matter anyway, because she's kissing Josh right now.

But, she's not.

This lie is too great for her brain to conjure up false images, and all she can taste is Castle. All she can feel beneath her hands is the strong, firm, warmth of him, all she can smell is his subtle, familiar scent.

She's kissing _Castle_. She moans as it takes over her brain, unable to stifle the noise, her need for him impossible to swallow down. He hears it, she feels his response to her moan as his hands grip her just a little tighter, and she just wants to sink into him.  
She regains control, flicks her gaze to the guard, spins, and takes him down.

She tries to ignore the soft gasp for air behind her, tries not to react to Castle's murmured, _that was amazing. _And no matter what he says, no matter how he tries to cover, clarify, change his words, he's right: the kiss _was_ amazing.

Together, _they_ could be amazing.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**_Lucky Stiff_ filler**

* * *

_'Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you_,  
_Thinking of you, what you would do_,  
_If you were the one who was spending the night_?  
_Oh, I wish that I was looking into your eyes_.

* * *

Kate gets in late, an evening of nightclubs and arrests behind her. She had agreed to meet Josh for drinks, but those plans had fallen through when work had demanded her attention. He's back from Africa, and she missed him, but she's exhausted, and she hates herself for doing it, but a text reply to all the missed calls is all she can manage.

Her phone rings seconds after she's sent the text. A weary sigh leaves her lips, but she won't ignore the call, she can't this time. "Hey, how was Africa?" she asks into the phone, sitting on the edge of her bed, toeing off her shoes.

"Heartbreaking," he replies, and his words stab at her own heart. All the good he was doing over there, the lives he saved, she's so proud of him. But not all of those he worked on would have made it, and how does he move on from the lives he couldn't save? "You free?" he asks.

She wants to say no; she wants to curl up in bed and sleep. But, she can't; he needs her tonight. "Yeah, I'm free." She considers her options, and asks, "You want to come over?"

* * *

He turns up on her doorstep, looking as fatigued as she feels; they're both a little jaded right now. He's been living in a third world country, saving lives, and _she's_ tired? How can she compare her exhaustion to his? But it feels like that, sometimes, a competition, a need to be better than the other, to have the more important job.

He kisses her, weeks of missing her coursing out of his body, pouring into hers, and it feels wrong. His kiss feels… off, unfamiliar, too demanding, forced and hostile. His dry, rough lips on her, his hands holding her just a little too tight, the coarseness of his stubble burning her skin, it's all wrong, and she's uncomfortable with where this is heading. It crosses her mind, that she should be aching with the need to fall into bed with her long-absent boyfriend, to feel him moving inside her, his warmth above her, bodies melding again after so long apart, but such concerns are fleeting.

It's almost a relief when all he wants to do is sleep, pressed to her side, and nothing more.

He asks politely about her day while they prepare for bed, and she replies, condensing the events into as few words as possible. It isn't until her eyes meet his from across the still-made bed, and she sees the frustration in them, the furrow in his brow, that she realizes too many of those words were "Castle".

He brushes it off, but she knows he'll mention it later, perhaps in the morning, or the next time that name leaves her lips. She slips beneath the comforter, allows herself to be wrapped in Josh's arms, but his hold is too tight around her ribs, and his knee sticks awkwardly into the back of her leg, and no matter how much they shift their bodies they just don't seem to fit. She inhales his scent, but there is a staleness to it, and she knows he showered before arriving at her place but there's a faint reminder of aircraft lingering on him, and he feels like a stranger behind her. She tries to focus on Josh, on her _boyfriend_, but she's thinking about a Ferrari, about a nightclub, and dancing, and another man's eyes on her as she moves through the sea of people in the club - and she's still thinking about that kiss from weeks ago that she can't erase from her mind.

* * *

**Chapter 3 **

**_Final Nail_ post-ep**

* * *

_You're like an Indian Summer in the middle of winter_,  
_Like a hard candy with a surprise center_.  
_How do I get better once I've had the best?_  
_You said there's tons of fish in the water, so the waters I will test_.

* * *

She stands beside Castle in the crowded bar, his side brushing hers, heads tilted, almost touching, while they talk over the noise of the people around them. They discuss drinks, make their decisions, both nodding in appreciation at their choices. She lets him order for her, but she slides the cash to the bartender before he has the chance to pull his wallet out, a low chuckle bubbling out of her at his grunt of protest. Smiling victoriously, she walks at his side as he carries both their drinks to a table, still grumbling over the fact she paid. "You can get the next round," she placates him.

His mood is subdued while they sit, drink. Despite the fact he's making light jokes, and forcing smiles, she sees through it all, and her heart aches, it clenches and twists painfully in her chest, for him. She sips her drink, listening as he manages to talk about everything except Damian and the day they've had, everything except Josh and Valentine's Day.

The drink orders are repeated, he pays, time passes, an hour, maybe more, and the alcohol numbs her, makes her brain a little fuzzy. He meets her eyes across the table, sadness still clouding them, and the fuzziness lifts, dissipates. She holds his gaze, a little more intensely than she might have sober, and as his own eyes soften, brighten just a little, she asks, "I know you don't want to talk about it, but do you need to?"

"Damian?" he asks.

She nods in response.

He tips his head back, and closes his eyes for a moment, considering it. Her eyes fall to his lips, slightly parted, moist from his own drink, and when he drops his chin and opens his eyes he lifts an eyebrows as he catches her staring. "No, I'm good," he replies. "Anything _you_ need to talk about?"

She huffs out a laugh, and shakes her head, tearing her gaze from his lips, and down to her glass. "Nope." Only that she wants to kiss him, again. And then again, and again. Until he is Catullus and she is Clodia, and they've lost count of the thousands of kisses, and have lost themselves in one another.

She shifts the topic of conversation to Alexis, and lets her partner update her on his daughter's latest achievements, until his smile is genuine, and his eyes are shining with joy.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and Castle watches with curious eyes, taking in each stilted movement as she fishes it out and wrestles with whether to take the call or not.

She stares at the phone she now holds in her hand, her finger poised above the accept button.

His smile fades, and his eyes shift down to his drink. "You should take that," he tells her.

Phone pressed tight to her ear, she accepts the call, keeps it brief, and ends it before Josh can ask about the sounds in the background. "I have to go meet Josh now," she apologizes. At his nod of acceptance, she asks, "You gonna be okay, Castle?"

He looks up from his drink, and attempts a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. You go," he tells her. "Have fun." But the cheerful lilt in his tone is too forced, and his eyes hold a sadness that breaks her heart.

She wants to kiss him; it's Valentine's Day and she's about to go meet her boyfriend, but she wants to kiss Castle. When he stands to walk her out the table that had kept them apart is no longer a barrier, and she struggles to hold back when her lips are determined to seek his out.

She allows herself to give in a little, makes a compromise silently with herself, and wraps her arms around him, her phone still clutched awkwardly in one hand. He returns the embrace, pulling her closer without hesitation, but asks, "What's this for?" His voice is a soft murmur near her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

She smiles sadly, because he can't see it, and replies, "I'm sorry about your friend, Castle."

He squeezes her in response, a silent, _thank you_. "You should go," he says softly. "Josh is waiting."

"Yeah," she says on an exhaled breath. Her lips brush his cheek as she pulls back, deliberate, but soft. "Happy Valentine's Day, Castle," she says, her face still too close to his, his scent more intoxicating than the alcohol she has consumed.

His hands linger on her hips, reluctant to let her go, further adding to her own reluctance to leave. Her eyes hold his, and the raw emotion in them leaves her mesmerized. She stops thinking as her body leans forward, drawn to his, desperate to bridge this small amount of distance between them, but the moment is broken by a low, persistent, buzzing. She swallows thickly, blinking rapidly as her hand tightens around her phone in frustration. Neither of them need to look to know who just messaged her. "Thank you," Castle says gently. "For tonight."

Kate nods, because she's lost for how to respond, her voice held captive by a fluttery feeling in her stomach from what she saw in his eyes mere seconds earlier. So she smiles warmly, and places a palm to his chest, a silent plea for him to stay here, a desperate request not to walk her out. He nods, she steps back, out of his careful hold on her, and she exits the bar alone. She steps out into the cool night, but a warm rush of love fills her and keeps the cold at bay. She raises a hand, and brushes the pads of two fingers across her lips, where she can still feel his cheek against them. A sudden, hard, pang of guilt tugs at her heart, and her fingers leave her lips to hail a cab, the motion an effort to shake the shame away. But the guilt holds tight, envelops her, vanquishes the warmth, and leaves her shivering on the curb. Guilt for kissing him, embracing him, for letting herself get so lost in his eyes - and for loving him.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**_Countdown_ Post-ep**

* * *

_He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth,_  
_He pulled me in, I was disgusted with myself_.  
_'Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you_.

* * *

She's dreaming of him. Again. She's dreaming of his body pressed intimately to hers, of his hand easing down between them, of the tips of two deft fingers teasing her. His lips slide along her skin, a burning, wet trail of want, down her neck, across her shoulders. Her fingernails dig into him, holding him to her; her legs wrap around his hips, heels pressing hard into his soft flesh to keep him right where she needs him. She lifts her hips, takes him deeper, and as the friction increases, and takes her to breaking point, her sobs grow louder.

"Kate," he murmurs into her ear.

She releases a low moan in response, incapable of forming words; her brain is addled, too overcome by the sensations, thinking of nothing but release.

"Kate." Louder, more insistent this time, and accompanied by a careful nudge to her side. Fingers wrap around her wrist and shake her arm gently.

Desperate to stay wrapped in the salacious haze, a frustrated groan leaves her lips as she is pulled from the delicious dream.  
She blinks away the cobwebs of sleep, and becomes acutely aware of the aching need between her legs as she turns to face him. "Josh?" Her voice is rough, and laced with lingering arousal, the remnants of the orgasm she almost had in her sleep. She meets his eyes in the soft morning light, and sees concern in them.

"You were dreaming," he says slowly, his voice tight, his body tense.

"Yeah." She fumbles over the word, and then clears her throat. "A nightmare actually."

"Really?" he asks, unconvinced. "Because you said Castle's name."

"I'm not surprised." She sits up, rakes her hand through her hair, and breathes deeply. "We, uh, almost died, remember," she reminds him. "In my dream, we didn't make it." She swallows thickly for effect, willing tears into her eyes. But she's always been a little too stoic, and the tears refuse to come.

"Okay." He watches her silently for a moment, until his body relaxes in acceptance, and his eyes soften, and he reaches for her, carefully tugging her back to his side. "Well, you're alive, Kate. It was just a dream."

"Yeah," she agrees. She snuggles against him, like she means it, but she feels nothing for him. Not anymore. She hates herself, for dreaming of another man, for pressing herself up against him even knowing the relationship is coming to an end.

He falls asleep quickly, content, but she refuses to. She's terrified of sleeping, of the dream picking up again, of what happens next. She lies there, silently berating herself, until her alarm goes off and she pries herself out of his arms, and attempts to wash away her need for another man.

But a shower can only do so much.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**_Dead Pool_ Post-ep**

* * *

_Now the lesson's learned_,  
_I touched it, I was burned_.

* * *

Josh stops by once his shift at the hospital is over, but he's exhausted. She's tired, she accidentally admits, and it's quick to become a competition, again, to see who can claim to having had the worst day.

His visit is a mistake from the moment she opens the door.

Or maybe the mistake was hers, from the start, for believing this could work.

* * *

It isn't intentional, she isn't even aware she's doing it, the words that leave her lips, the name she repeats. She has the memory of prolonged eye contact fresh in her mind; she has the memory of that one word that left her lips, that one word so full of meaning it warms her to say it:  
_Always._

It isn't until he snaps, his voice broken, frustration flaring in his eyes, that she realizes she's been talking about _him_ again. Too much.

"I feel like I'm dating both you and Castle," Josh says wearily. "I come here to spend time with _you_, and I feel like a third wheel - and he isn't even _here_." It isn't anger in his voice, it's defeat. He's given up.

He stands, pushing himself off her couch with new found energy, and steps away from her with long strides. The attraction has gone, like two magnets that have been flipped, and to fight it would be a lie. She follows, watches as he silently collects his jacket from the atrium closet, and she knows she's supposed to be talking him out of leaving, but the words won't form, and she refuses to force them. Lies. Too many lies. It's time for this to end.

"This is the part where you try to stop me leaving," he says humorlessly, fingers curling around the door handle, his back to her as he speaks.

"No," she says gently, moving to stand behind him. "It isn't."

He nods, drops his hand, and then slowly turns to face her. "You like him, Kate. I'm not blind. Hell, I've been competing with him this whole time." He places his hands gently on her forearms, and drops a sad kiss to her forehead. "It's been nice, but it hasn't been enough, not for either of us. "

He steps back, opens the door, murmurs a sad, _Goodbye, Kate_, and steps out. The door closes, and she stands there, listening as his footsteps disappear in the distance, and the elevator dings.

She lets him go, feeling like she's been cheating on him the entire time. Even if it was only in her head.

Mostly.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**_TLaDiLA_ filler (Couch scene. You know the one)**

* * *

_Oh, won't you walk through_,  
_And bust in the door and take me away?_

* * *

"You're not so bad yourself, Castle." Kate responds to his words with more honesty than she's comfortable with. His eyes hold hers, and all the tenderness and warmth she sees in them surges into her, almost knocking her off the couch.

She's hurting; her heart burns from the loss of Royce, her pride is still a little wounded after the break-up with Josh, and her emotions are all just a little too raw. She sits beside Castle on the small couch in the lavish hotel room, her heart-rate increasing with each second that passes. The air surrounding them grows thick with regret, pain, love, and she struggles with herself, caught between wanting to press her body to his, and needing to walk away.

His eyes stay locked with hers, his gaze unwavering, and the softness in them, the pure, utter love, becomes too much. She remains calm, her exterior under tight control, bids him goodnight with an even voice, and leaves him for the safety of her bedroom. But the heat within her is rising, her stomach is swirling, and her heart feels like a paper bag she's hyperventilating into. It contracts from the emptiness of a life lost, and swells with her love for this man beside her.

Face flushed, blood coursing through her veins, she leans back against the closed bedroom door, scrubbing her hands up her face, through her hair, an attempt to calm the raging storm of emotions within her.

She wants him; it took everything she had to leave that couch, that room, hide herself away. From him. The door is no barrier, just a temporary fix. Her fingers hover above the handle, and she wrestles with her options.

The tips of her shaking fingers dance on the cool metal; they've both been dancing around this for too long and it's taking its toll on her.

Her hand drops to the handle, her fingers clutch tight around it, and she throws open the door...

To find Castle standing on the other side, hand poised to knock, his expression as surprised as hers.

"Castle?" she breathes out.

* * *

He sways slightly for a moment, and then takes a chance. "I love you, Kate." And like that, it's out there, the words he's been holding in, the words she isn't ready to hear. He says them plainly, on an exhaled breath, one he'd been holding since he stepped up to the door. His insides churn, his heart turns somersaults, and he can only pray she hears it in his voice, sees it in his eyes, and understands just how serious he is right now.

She takes a step back, and all he can see is retreat. He holds her gaze, and all he can see is her confusion, and regret. Her lips part in surprise, and he feels remorse.

One foot resting behind the other, she balances on the balls of her feet, before propelling herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling his body to hers as she crashes into him.

* * *

She doesn't say the words back to him. That's something that's always taken time for her. She just wraps her arms around him and holds him close.

"I know you're grieving," he whispers into her hair.

She nods against him, not trusting her voice.

"I know the timing sucks."

She smiles a little, her fingers pressing a little harder into his shoulder blades, to show she agrees.

"I know you may not return the feelings."

She pulls back at that, meets his eyes, and shakes her head.

"And that's okay," he replies ruefully, misinterpreting the shake of her head.

"No, Castle," she says quickly, forcing the words out. "I-" And then she falters, the lump rises in her throat, and the grief for a lost friend overwhelms her heart. Her hands find his, curl around them, and squeeze gently. She holds both his hands, leans in, and brushes a sweet, brief kiss to his lips. Her lips slide against his, parting slightly. She closes her eyes, and wants nothing more than to lose herself in the way his lips move with hers. She breaks away on a sigh, opens her eyes, and smiles shyly. "I want this," she tells him. "I want you." Her lips nip at his again, just another quick taste of him, ending it before she gives in completely. "But I can't, not tonight, Castle. Not while Royce's killer is still out there. I need to do this first. For him." She prays he understands.

* * *

He didn't expect her to drag him to her bed and ravish him, didn't expect her to allow him to spin her around and take her up against the door. Such thoughts might have flashed through his mind, but they're nothing more than fantasies, too harmful on this night. He bundles her up in his arms instead, and pulls her to him; she rests her head to his chest, and they stand silently for a moment, just breathing in the scent of the other, listening to the rapid beating of their hearts.

When he gently drops his arms from around her, easing out of the embrace, he sees the dark smudges beneath her eyes, and the dampness on her cheeks. He raises a hand to brush away her tears, but she captures it with hers, and brings it to her lips. She kisses his palm, and he feels her murmur a silent _thank you_ to his skin.

He meets her eyes, and this time he really does see the regret there. He knows her next move, it's written all over her face. He doesn't flinch when she drops his hand and takes a step back. He doesn't step forward when she curls her hand around the handle once more, and drops her gaze.

"I'll let you get some rest," he tells her gently. "You know where I am... if you need me."

* * *

She smiles, relieved she doesn't have to tell him with words that she just needs to be alone tonight. It would have been so easy to drag his body to hers once she had opened that door. It would have been so easy to walk him backwards until his body connected with the mattress, her thighs straddling his, their lips fused while hands removed clothes.

She still wants to, needs to...

But her heart belong to Royce tonight, to her fallen friend.

She stands on the tips of her toes, and brushes a final kiss to his lips. "Good night, Castle," she murmurs as she steps back.

He turns, and retreats to his own bedroom. She waits until he is standing in his room, his own hand on the door, his eyes locked on hers. The sad smile lingers on her lips, and she closes the door slowly, keeping their eyes locked until the doors come between them.

She won't be stumbling into his room tonight; she won't be crawling under his sheets, melding her body to his, moving her lips across his skin.

No. Not tonight.

* * *

**Chapter 7**  
**_TLaDiLA_ Post-ep**

* * *

_Oh, no more mistakes,_  
_'Cause in your eyes I'd like to stay._

* * *

_If only…_

No more.

She had unpacked, showered, changed back into a pair of jeans, a shirt, and left her apartment.  
No more waiting, no more excuses, no more mistakes.  
Enough.

The cab took her to his apartment building, her feet took her to his door. She knocked, waited, and oh it was late. Maybe too late. _Too late now_. For her, for them?

And now she's stuck, caught somewhere between pulling out her phone to call him, and turning to leave - one hand in her pocket, her hips shifting her weight, on the verge of stepping away - when the door is hauled open, and his confused eyes meet hers.

"Beckett?" he asks, rubbing the heel of his palm to his eyes, hair mussed, robe…

Oh. Shit.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she apologizes.

"It's okay," he promises. He steps back, gestures for her to enter. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she replies on an exhaled breath. She steps forward, stops, waves a dismissive hand. "You know, never mind. This can wait. I'm sorry-"

"No."

"No?"

"You're here," he tells her. "I'm awake. Come in."

_No more, Kate_, she reminds herself. _Stop this._

He's sleepy, and ruffled, hints of stubble shading his jaw, and all she wants to do is take that confused face in her hands, bridge the distance, press her body to his-

"Kate?"

She ducks her head, hiding the warmth she feels in her cheeks, and steps into his apartment. It's arousal firing through her, heating her skin, burning in her eyes. When she looks up, she knows it's all still there, all over her face, her need for him.

"We started something in L.A," she murmurs, her voice little more than a whisper, her eyes darting around the quiet loft. Satisfied there is no one else present on the lower level, Kate meets his eyes and smiles shyly. "Something we should-"

She doesn't get any further. His hand slips into hers, his fingers curl around her palm, press warmly into her skin, and he leads her through his home. He walks them through his study, and into his bedroom. He closes the door with a gentle kick of his foot, spins her around, and presses her back carefully against the smooth surface. His palms frame her face, his thumbs caress her cheeks, and she leans in and meets his lips.

Her hands grip at his robe, tug at the sash, making quick work of the two ends. She slides her hands inside, pressing her fingertips to his skin, around his sides, to his back, and she pulls him closer, between her legs, his body flush to hers. She emits a soft sigh when his lips slip down, close around the smooth, pale skin of her neck, nipping, and sucking, before soothing the spot with a sweep of his tongue.

He drags his lips from her skin, meets her eyes. "We started something two years ago, Kate," he tells her, his lips ghosting across hers, before she pulls him back to her, claims those teasing lips with her own.

She hitches a leg up, curls it around his thigh, slides against the thin pajama bottoms he wears. The material of his pants does little to restrain him, and she shifts her hips, angles her pelvis, feels him hitting her through her jeans. She knows she's still thinking too hard when she hears the words leave her lips. "Ready to finish it?"

"Not finish," he murmurs, his lips skimming hers. He tugs her away from the wall, his fingers slipping open the top two buttons of her shirt, revealing pale skin contrasting vividly against her black bra. "Continue," he corrects, before his head dips, his mouth teases her nipple through the lace, and she loses the ability to think at all.

* * *

_Thank you for your patience_.


End file.
